


Égalité

by emmaliza



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Bukkake, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-29
Updated: 2013-03-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 20:45:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/739986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaliza/pseuds/emmaliza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He clothes himself in red and blue so Patria stays with him always. The other colour, well, he leaves that to his friends.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Égalité

**Author's Note:**

> Based on the prompt: "Enjolras/the rest of Les Amis; bukkake. Bonus points if it's somehow For The Revolution."

**Égalité**

He clothes himself in red and blue so Patria stays with him always. The other colour, well, he leaves that to his friends.

He is not punishing himself; in fact the opposite, for he doesn't deny the amount of pleasure he gets out of this. Sometimes it is all he can do not scream, to beg, demand they push their cocks into his mouth one after another and let him taste their skin, not just their seed. He refuses that impulse however. Whilst he uses this to indulge his desires in some fashion, he must maintain the capacity to control them, deny himself, even if while friends stare down at him whimpering in arousal with an expression of absolute pity.

It must be an odd sight, their Glorious Leader on his knees awaiting their come. He supposes that is the point. To remind them that while he needs them to follow him, he is just a man, a physical being, capable of mistakes and errors like any others. He needs them alert, awake, questioning his judgements. He is far from a God, which he knows people are far too prone to see him as; he presents himself as a Slut, and hopes the two visions will combine in an appropriate image, one of Citizen.

The first shot comes, hot against his neck and he gasps. He closes his eyes and lets his mouth hang open, feeling more land on his chin an in his mouth. He swallows, delighting in that strange salt taste. It does not stop; he hears moans and grunts above him and feels them come on his cheeks, his lips, his forehead; someone's prick presses against his jaw and he groans because _contact._

He waits until they are all finished before he choses to finish himself. He licks desperately at the mess on his face, the rapidly cooling liquid he only wishes he could taste more of. He burns at the thought. God, what must it be like not to have to collect it like this, but feel someone shoot straight down his throat and swallow every single drop?

Perhaps one day, one the people are free and France great with liberty, he will allow himself to find out.

He strokes roughly, biting his lip, allowing himself to finish all over his own shirt and stomach. His own come adds to that covering him.

He stays there for a few moments, until he feels a hand helping him up; it is Combeferre, aiding him back to his feet. Joly approaches with a wet washcloth, to clean him a little - though he knows not to do so in entirety.

Then, coloured red white and blue, Enjolras returns to work.


End file.
